


Man's best friend

by Yaoiteen1001



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gay Sex, High School, Homophobia, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Self Harm, Teenagers, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaoiteen1001/pseuds/Yaoiteen1001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the later than normal update. I had been mulling over on how to slow there relationship so that it would be more than ten chapters. Thanks for the comments and such. I hope you like the next chapter :)</p></blockquote>





	1. Group

_Stiles wanted to be home, or school, or even with fucking Greenberg - anywhere was better than where he was. Tears rolled down his face, staining his pale cheeks with dull red streaks. His nose ran faster than the wind and he felt like he couldn't breath. He only opened his mouth to let out little gasps of breaths that his lungs managed to squeeze out. He wore his green plaid shirt which had started out as a nice clean shirt, but was now torn, dirtied and ruffled. He wasn't wearing any pants... or underwear for that matter. His face scraped against the concrete as he shifted back and forth, like a pattern, a rhythm. A hand gripped the collar of his shirt, tugging harshly, almost choking him. His hair was fucked up, the effect of the gel was completely gone. His ass hurt like a mother... and he was sure there'd be red marks all over it. Another hand rubbed Stiles stomach, then straddling his cock every so often. His face finally started to bleed with so many scrapes from the concrete ground. He was outside, but he didn't know where. He could see trees off in the distance and a street lamp flooding the road with light. Cars passed by, but none stopped, none saw. "You like that! Huh! You like that, you little slut!" the man said, his voice raspy, like he had smoked for several years. His skin was rough and worn from several years. Stiles tried to drown everything out, to go to a different place, a place more peaceful than this horrible place.._

"Stiles, Stiles!" Scott shouted, looking at him. They were at a green light, but it had been red when they got there. He didn't know ow long they had been sitting there. All he had to go by we're frequent car horns and several cars going around his jeep. He stepped on the gas, the jeep lurching forward making a sound that probably wasn't normal. Scott hit his head on his seat. He rubbed is head. "Jeez, man."

"Sorry," Stiles replied, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. They rounded a corner, turning into a small parking lot that sat in front of a square building that went up three stories. He parked in a spot that was both empty and close to the building. He almost hit the car in front of him, but he slammed on the brakes, making Scott's his head on the dash. "You know, for a werewolf, your incredibly clumsy."

"You drive terribly, Stiles!" he retorted, anger laced in his voice. He rubbed the goose egg that formed on his head. It was turning red, and the dash was cracked. Stiles quickly made is way into the building, walking up to the rectangular counter in the corner of the first floor. He rang the little desk bell that sat next to a wire tin of mints. He grabbed a mint and stuck it into his mouth before ringing the bell. A stout lady dressed in a violet suit hurried out from behind the wall that the desk was backed up against. She wore violet eyeglasses. She probably had a pair for each outfit she owned. Her lips were painted with a black lipstick. She sat down, typing rapidly at the computer. After a few clicks and frustrated sighs, she turned and said, "What ya need hon?"

"I'm here for group," Stiles replied, sliding a card across the desk. She picked it up with her acrylic nails hat were painted black. She lifted her glasses and held the card to her face.

"Ah, okay. That'll be floor three, room B269. Fill this out before leaving today." she said. She slid the card back, "Here ya go sweety." As Stiles walked to the elevator, he could hear her say, 'what a pity, so young.' He pressed the arrow pointing up. It lit up orange, flickering a few times. Scott hurried in, after doing god knows what. He skidded to a halt behind Stiles.

"You can stay here if you want," Stiles told Scott.

"Oh thank god, I have to pee," he said, holding his crotch and running to the bathroom. The lady in violet watched as he slammed the door behind himself. The elevator opened, a little girl and her mother stepping out. The little girl clutched to the mothers leg, tears staining the mothers pants. He entered the elevator, pressing the giant three on the wall. After a bumpy few seconds that worried Stiles, the doors opened. He made his way down the hall, checking every door and then moving on to the next. He found the next door, which didn't have any windows into the room. He opened it, sticking his head in at first.

"Oh, hi," a man said. Stiles opened the door all the way, stepping in. The room was quite large, with a circle of blue and red chairs in the middle. Almost all he chairs were taken, except maybe two or three. The man that had spoken sat towards the back. He was wearing a blue hoodie along with jeans. He wore rimmed glasses, his blonde hair styled up. He was tall and skinny. He had blue green eyes that made his pale skin seem less... pale. Stiles sat down in an open seat. On either side of him were a teenage girl, not much younger than he, who wore gothic clothes. She had black hair, and several piercings. And on the other side was a guy in his mid twenties. He wasn't much different from the leader-dude, except he had brown eyes and hair that was cut short.

"Okay, I'm Jerry," the leader-dude said.

"I'm Stiles," Stiles replied, waving his hand, then curling it back into a fist, and setting it on his lap. They went around, probably restating their names for the hundredth time.

"Do you want to tell us your story," Jerry said.

"Sure," Stiles said, standing up, "about two weeks ago, I was... I was... I was raped."

——————————

After Stiles had given a few minor details, they went around the circle, sharing their stories. When the hour was almost over, the door opened. This made Stiles stand up, not out of fear, but because he saw who came through the door. "Derek!" Stiles said, surprised.

Derek looked up from the paper he was holding, his face showed that he was also surprised, "Stiles, what're you doing here." His eyes flickered red.

"I am... just because." Stiles sat down, feeling the other's eyes on him. Derek sat in another empty seat, not far from his. Jerry introduced himself, and Derek told his story: he was raped, but he never said by who. Stiles didn't know Derek could get raped because he was so strong, and muscular, and had a good bo... Stiles used these thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing on the conversation at hand: how to deal with what had happened, grieving, and having someone to grieve with. After group had finished, everyone gathered around a table that had plates w cookies and brownies on them. A bowl held a certain drink that Stiles couldn't quite tell what it was. He didn't want to taste it though because just the thought of doing that made him shiver and brought back memories he wanted to bury. Derek grabbed a cookie, but held it in a napkin, not eating it. Stiles shoved a brownie into his mouth. He swallowed it, almost whole. He leaned against a pillar near the corner of the room. Everyone else chatted on the other side of the table. Derek stood just outside the group, watching the others talk away. Stiles took out his phone, texting anyone... he picked a random person from hi contacts, which happened to be Lydia, but he didn't really want to talk to her.

When he looked up from his phone, Derek was there, holding out his cookie, "Want it?"

"Uh, sure," Stiles said, plucking the cookie from Derek's grasp. He bit off half the cookie and chewed it down.

"So, who raped you?" Stiles asked, curious.

"You know, Kate," Derek replied.

"Dude, that was like forever ago," Stiles said, thinking of how Derek could still not be over that. He acted like he was. But Stiles had acted like he was over what had happened to him when he really wasn't.

"Shut up!" was all he said before walking away. Great, first day of group and Stiles managed to push someone away.

When Stiles decided to look at the large crack in the back wall, Derek looked back at him. He felt anger, base he couldn't protect Stiles. Stiles had been hurt, and that hurt Derek. He never made it seem like he had liked Stiles, because he didn't want anyone to notice. But now he was angry because he wasn't with Stiles when he needed him most.


	2. The move

_"See ya," Scott said, waving at Stiles as he walked down the street, his arm looped around Allison's waist. Stiles glanced back at the big sign to the movie theater's entrance before walking down the street. He had to park his car a few blocks away because there weren't any spots open nearby. He zipped up his hoodie about halfway to his car because a sudden chilly wind blew down the street. A car rolled by, clunking down the road, momentarily lighting up the sidewalk. Stiles rounded a corner nearing his car. He fingered his keys in his pocket, entertaining his quite long walk. He slipped his keys into the door of the jeep, whistling to himself. He opened the door, feeling an arm wrap around his stomach and pull._

_"Let go of me!" he shouted. The man had a tight grip. Stiles elbowed him several times without any luck. He man dragged him away from the jeep, probably to his own car. Stiles threw his head back, hitting the guy in the nose. He grunted, letting go of Stiles. Stiles ran, as fast as he could. He could hear the man's footsteps behind him. He heard the man grunt, minutes later something hit the back of his head. He fell to his knees, landing face first on the sidewalk. The ground was spinning around him. He could hear the man's hurried footsteps as he bounded towards Stiles. Stiles grabbed a crack in the sidewalk, trying to pull himself away. "Help," he tried shouting but it came out in a whisper. The man picked up his feet, dragging him away. "Please, no," now Stiles was begging. The man threw Stiles into the back of what he could make out as a truck. That was the last thing he remembered before being knocked out cold._

Stiles woke with a start, jolting up in bed. He ran his hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. He went to the bathroom, washing the sweat from his face. He lay back down in bed, not falling asleep, but watching his fan spin above his bed. The memory of that night seemed to play randomly, at very inconvenient times. He shifted about a hundred times during the night, not able to find a comfortable spot.

——————————

Stiles pulled into Scott's driveway, shutting off the jeep and almost sprinting to the door. He knocked, feeling jittery and afraid. He kept looking around, fearing someone or he would pop out of nowhere and attack him and drag him away and... Stiles thoughts trailed off as Ms. McCall answered he door, "Hey Stiles, what's up?"

"Is Scott home?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's up in his room," she made room for him to come in then stopped him, "unless you want to climb into his room." She smiled, and Stiles returned it with a brief one. He took on the stairs two at a time. He knocked on Scott's door before walking in. He was at his desk, typing very quickly, still wearing pajamas.

"Scott?"

He whipped around in his chair, "Hey."

"Do you want to hang out?" Stiles asked, leaning against the door.

"Can't. Got a paper to write. Sorry, maybe anther day."

"Yeah, no, that's cool. See ya," Stiles said before walking back down the stairs. Scott's mom was already gone to work. As Stiles started his jeep, he scrolled through the list of people in his mind that would ant to hang out. Isaac was meeting the new girl he met online, Boyd was off in the woods doing whatever, Allison wasn't really an option, Lydia and Jackson were off doing god knows what, which only left one option: Derek. Stiles drove down the highway, heading to Derek's house. It had been awkward the other day when Derek had shown up at the group meeting for a rape that happened a long time ago, if you could even call it rape. Stiles wondered if Derek would even speak to him after he had what he said.

Stiles knocked on Derek's door, listening as the knock echoed throughout the burnt house. He heard footsteps, and looked over his shoulder seeing nobody there. He looked back to see Derek standing in the doorway, holding a few boxes. "Hey, what are those?" Stiles pointed to the boxes.

"My shit, why."

"Just wondering. So, do you want to hang out... or something. Oh! I know, how about watching high school students from afar, your really good at that!"

"Can't, I'm moving," Derek replied, his face showing how not amusing Stiles comment had been.

"You're moving! Where?!" Stiles asked.

"Just to an loft down the street. Wipe that look off your face, I'm not moving states!" he replied, seeing the broken face Stiles had put on. "If you really want to 'hang out', then you can help me move."

"Beats sitting at home all day, not sleeping," Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders. He grabbed a box and a bag from inside and put them in the backseat of Derek's car. Derek came out with the rest of the stuff, looking as if he was trying his absolute hardest not to drop anything.

"I don't have enough room in my car, can you put these in your jeep?" he asked, standing in front of Stiles.

"Uh, sure," Stiles said, opening the back of his jeep so Derek could put his stuff in it. He looked at Derek's car and saw that there was plenty of room for more stuff, which left a puzzled look on is face.

"What?"

"Nothing," Stiles replied, giving a fake smile. He followed Derek down the road. His new apartment was huge. It had two rooms, a bathroom, a big kitchen and big living room and a spiral staircase. All this made the minuscule amount of stuff that was Derek's look even smaller. He helped Derek unpack, finding that Derek was into stuff that Stiles hadn't known about. "You like The Hangover?!" Stiles said, surprised.

"Sure, it's okay. I watch it when I feel down," Derek replied, not looking at Stiles as he unpacked his books, placing them on a bookshelf. They finished around one, and Derek ordered pizza as a sort of thank you. They sat down on a ratty couch that the previous tenant left behind. It had a few holes in it, but was mostly dusty. But Stiles didn't car, he was exhausted and even the couch looked comfortable. They sat in silence till lithe pizza came. Derek paid, but as Derek was getting plates, Stiles slipped the pizza man a tip. Derek had a habit of not tipping. Stiles pocketed his wallet, turning around to find Derek standing in front of him, holding a plate of pizza. "Here," he said, handing it to him. They sat back down on the couch, a bit of dust puffing up when they did so.

"So, when is your next group meeting?" Stiles asked, trying to break the overwhelming silence.

"Next week, Wednesday."

"Hey, men too. We could be like, group buddies!" Stiles was being overly enthusiastic about something that was morbid and depressing.

"What? Group buddies? That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard," Derek said, shaking his head.

"Oh, no, you're right. It was a stupid idea," Stiles replied, lulling his legs up onto the couch as he set his empty plate on he coffee table in front of them. He shrunk back as far as he could in the corner of the couch, wishing he could just disappear rather than create another awkward silence from his embarrassing statements. Derek eyes Stiles, turning to him.

"What're you doing?"

"Uh, nothing," Stiles replied, composing himself. Derek put down his plate, his eyes growing softer and less hostile. He hadn't realized how he was being with Stiles, who had obviously had some kind of repercussions from his experience. He slid his hand across Stiles shoulders, making Stiles jump slightly. He rubbed his shoulders trying to calm him down. He could hear Stiles heartbeat race, and his breathing quicken.

"Sorry." Derek said genuinely.

"For what?"

"For being rude and scaring you."

"It's not your fault, it's his." Stiles put his head against Derek's collarbone, feeling... safe with him. He curled up against Derek, and for a few seconds, Derek didn't know what to do, then he wrapped his arms around Stiles. He could hear Stiles crying, lightly. It made him feel sad himself, that Stiles was hurting and he couldn't do anything about it. He wanted to fix everything, to make everything go away so it was just the two of them. He wished he could tell Stiles how he felt, but he was afraid Stiles wouldn't react well, seeing as how fragile he already was.

 


	3. Cuddling

_Stiles woke up, the back of his head throbbing lightly. His vision was blurred and tilting to the left. The floor he was laying on was rocking slightly, and he could see lights flashing by through the window. The floor had a thin carpeting on it, tickling his nose. He would've fell back asleep if he didn't remember how he had gotten there, wherever there was. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, trying not to alert the man as to him being awake. A wall separated the back of the van from the front, with only a small grated window in the middle of the wall. He scooted to the back of the van, trying to handle, but it wouldn't budge. He tried opening the windows, but they had been locked. He slumped against the van wall, sighing. He knew he wasn't getting out, at least not until the man lets him out, if he did._

_After what seemed like hours, but was most likely just a few minutes, the van came to a halt. The engine died, and the man got out. Stiles ducked under the window, notating to be seen. He searched, frantically, for something he could use to defend himself. His fingers stumbled upon a tire iron. He grabbed it, holding it up. He shuffled to the door, now making a sound, signaling that it was being unlocked. Stiles took one last gulp._

_The door opened, street light flooding the back of the van. He swung the tire iron, knocking the man in the cheek. He yelled and fell back. Stiles bolted out the back, running into the forest on the side of the empty road. He could hear the mans labored footsteps behind him. He dodged several branches, and roots, which he could hear the man stumbling over and hitting. He came to a clearing, expecting there to be more trees and tripping when there weren't. He saw a sidewalk and a small building not far away. He used his last spurt of energy to get to the building, grabbing at the handle and tugging, but it wouldn't open... it was locked. He stood there for a moment, his eyes wide with fear, knowing what was coming._

_He felt rough hands on his shoulders, pulling him to the ground. He was set down on his knees, a gun to his head. The man unbuckled his pants, dropping them around his ankles. "Go on, suck it!" he yelled. "Then, maybe I'll fuck ya!"_

Stiles woke up. He was laying down in Derek's apartment, still. His head was on Derek's chest and his arm was drooped over Derek's side. Derek breathed heavily as he slept, twitching every once in a while. Stiles sat up, stretching, and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He rubbed his eye, and got up, walking to the bathroom. He found Derek's medicine cabinet, which Derek must've up away because stiles didn't remember putting any sort of pills away. He opened it, scanning the various bottles and boxes till he found one that had the word sleep in it. He carefully read through the warnings and such, but got bored and popped a few in his mouth. He would love to sleep without dreaming, without having nightmares of that night. He wanted to erase those horrible memories.

He lay back down on the couch, beside Derek. He listened to Derek's heartbeat, slow and lulling. His eyelids became heavier and heavier till he couldn't keep them open any longer.

Stiles woke up again, checking his phone: 10 pm. His dad was going to kill him if he didn't back soon! Plus I didn't help that he was at Derek's, the one man his dad probably hated the most. He slipped into his shoes, leaving a chicken scratch note on the counter, before rushing out the door. He raced down the road, his jeep threatening to roll over on the sharp turns. He didn't even have his seatbelt on, all he could think about was his imminent death. His dad wanted his home by 9:30 sharp ever since that night. He probably had the whole police department out looking for him.

He stopped with a screech in the driveway, narrowly missing his dads car. He burst into the house to find his dad at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee. "You're home late," he said, looking over his mug as he took another sip.

"Sorry, I was out with friends."

"You haven't been out with friends this late, or at all for that matter, since that night," his dad retorted.

"Doesn't mean I was gonna become a recluse in my room for the rest of my life," Stiles said, his brows furrowed and his mouth pursed.

"I'm taking the night shift tonight, so I won't be back till late tomorrow," his dad said, setting the empty mug in the sink. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Of course I will, I'm not five," Stiles said, walking to the fridge and opening it as far as it would go. He found the remains of an old turkey sandwich, and pulled it out. It smelt fine, so Stiles took it out of the bag and took a huge bite.

"I would much rather you have takeout than that old thing. It looks like it has a shit ton of diseases in it." His dad had his coat on and was grabbing his keys.

"Tastes just fine to me!" Stiles almost spat out some of the sandwich when he said that.

"Whatever," his dad said, before walking out the door. Stiles relaxed against the counter, taking another bite out of the sandwich. His stomach growled unhappily.

"Ugh, shit!" He threw the sandwich away and searched for some tums to get his stomach to settle.

——————————

The next day, Stiles woke up with a stomach that was intent on making him throw up. He had to rush to the bathroom, nearly missing the toilet. Even when it seemed his stomach was empty, his body found something to throw up. When he got back to his room, he saw pebbles being thrown at it. He opened it, a pebble smacking him square in the forehead. He looked down to see Derek standing just below. "Ow!" Stiles yelled, rubbing his forehead where he was sure there was going to be a red mark.

"Sorry." Derek replied, though his face looked he didn't care either way.

"What the hell are you doing here, anyways?"

"Why did you leave?" he replied quickly. Stiles left the window, leaving it open. He sat down on his bed and looked back to see Derek closing it. He was amazed by how sat he had climbed up, but hid his excitement with annoyance. He sat down in Stiles desk chair, his elbows on is knees and his chin in his hands.

"I left because I had a curfew, and my dad wouldn't like knowing I was at your house."

"So what, say your at Scott's house," Derek relied, like it was no problem.

"My dad has been very comforting and supportive after that night, why would I break his trust now. It would spoil everything," Stiles said, as if Derek should've realized this from the start.

"Okay then..."

"You won't tell anyone? Will you?"

"Tell them what?"

"That I snuggled up to you and spilled my over boiling guts!" Stiles replied, making sure Derek heard.

"If I told anyone, it would admit letting you do so," Derek said, cocking an eyebrow. Stiles smiled, remembering the long time they were laying on the couch. He snapped back to reality when he saw Derek looking at him like he was weird.

"Is that all you came over here for?"

"No!"

"Well?"

"I was hoping to, uh, never mind. It's too embarrassing."

"C'mon, tell me. You have to now!" Stiles really wanted to know what he was going to say, because it was most likely a compliment, which he tended to love.

"I wanted to hold you, uh, again," he replied, bowing his head, hiding his face from Stiles.

"Well, I'm not moving from my bed," Stiles said, unmoving. He lay down on the bed, slipping his legs under the cover. Derek shuffled across the room, sitting down on Stiles bed at first, then he lifted his legs onto the bed. He turned on his side, sliding his arm over Stiles waist. Stiles shivered, suddenly feeling cold. Derek shifted closer, his heat jumping from his body to Stiles. Stiles grabbed Derek's hand, lacing his fingers with Derek's. Stiles didn't mind making Derek happy, since it made him happy. It made him. Different kind of happy. It made him look at Derek differently. He felt safe, protected, happy, and loved with Derek. It was more than close friendship, it was... Stiles thoughts trailed off. He scratched the thought out of his mind, realizing admitting his feeling for Derek would be stupid and full of embarrassment. Plus, even though Derek was spooning with him, he didn't actually know if Derek felt the same.

Stiles had fallen asleep not long after laying back down, but he woke up about a half hour later because his stomach was acting up. He bolted to the door, reaching the bathroom within seconds. He leant over the toilet, vomiting up whatever his stomach held, which wasn't very much. He felt a hand on his back, rubbing in circles between his shoulder blades. He knew it was Derek, but not actually seeing it worried him, scared him even... He flushed the toilet, standing back up. Derek was standing there, a worried look on his face, "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. I just ate a rotten sandwich yesterday, is all." Derek nodded, for a reason unknown to Stiles. He washed out his mouth in the sink. They lay back down in the bed, Derek wrapped around Stiles. He slept the rest of the night, nightmares not surfacing. He was able to sleep the whole night through.

When Stiles woke up, he stretched, a stupid grin spread across his face. He looked over, seeing Derek had gone, his curtains blowing in the wind of the open window. He sighed, closing the window and shuffling into the bathroom. He would have to spend Derek's absence in a half hour shower.

 


	4. Online

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later than normal update. I had been mulling over on how to slow there relationship so that it would be more than ten chapters. Thanks for the comments and such. I hope you like the next chapter :)

_The man pulled away, moaning with pleasure. He gripped the base of his cock and tugged furiously. He slide Stiles' shirt up his back, still pumping his dick. He let out a soft moan, shooting over Stiles back. He let out a sigh, pulling his pants up and buckling them. Stiles dropped from his hands and knees to his side, pulling his legs to his chest. The man pulled a gun out of his coat, which he picked up, and cocked it, holding it to Stiles head. "I don't think I'm gonna kill you this time. You puttin up a fight actually made this worth it," he laughed, putting the gun down the back of his pants. Stiles pulled his shirt down as far as it would go, wanting the earth to swallow him whole. He listened as the man stalked into the forest beyond. Stiles didn't move, he just lay there, hugging his knees, taking deep breaths in order to slow his heart. He would've stayed there all night if the cold wasn't biting him in the ass._

_He managed to tug his pants on, and getting up. He shuffled to the road instead of the forest, not wanting to run into the man there. No one had stopped to help Stiles, though, when he was walking, every so often feeling the back of his head where he had been hit. He had figured out that he was about two miles from his jeep, from walking. He reached it in under two hours, turning not the parking lot, stopping. He scanned the parking lot with his eyes under the dim light. He didn't see the van, but shuffled slowly to his jeep. He slipped in, starting it up and backing out. It didn't take him long to get home, and when he did, he went straight to the shower. He sat under the hot shower long after it turned cold, just rocking back and forth, hugging his knees. His dad had found him in the morning, sleeping in the shower, his knees still to his chest and the water off. He was shivering violently. It had taken a week or so to actually get Stiles to talk, and when he did, his father had to pry it out of him._

Stiles typed away at his computer, finishing assignment that was due at midnight, in a few minutes. His father had taken the night shift yet again, so he was he alone. This worried him a bit, but he tried not to dwell on it. He finished the last sentence in his paper, saving it and shutting off his computer. He rubbed his eyes, trying to relieve the pain of staring at a screen too much. He crawled into his bed, not daring to shut his eyes for fear of having nightmares of that night. He just pulled the sheets up to his waist and lay there, staring at his ceiling. Though he did try to stay awake, his plan didn't work so well. He fell asleep sometime around two.

Stiles woke up the next morning, glad that it was a Saturday. He stretched out his arms, feeling a pillow on one side, and a shirt on the other. He looked over to see Derek laying next to him, his arm draped over Stiles stomach. His window was open, sunlight and bird's chirps filtering in. Derek was sound asleep and Stiles had a million questions to ask him, but decided to wait. He ran his index finger down Derek's side, and moving to "trace" his back pocket. When he did so, he heard Derek moan in his sleep, which made him wonder what he was dreaming about. "Stiles," Derek mumbled, half asleep, "what're you doing?"

"I think the better question is what're you doing?" Stiles retorted, pulling his hand back. Derek sat up, stretching his arms above his head which lifted his shirt slightly revealing his apps trail. Thoughts flooded Stiles mind. He wanted to get on his knees and kiss Derek's happy trail, moving up to his chest, playing with his nipples. He'd attempt to give Derek a hickey, knowing full well it'd heel. He'd play with Derek's mouth, slipping his mouth in and out, playing with Derek's tongue. Stiles snapped back to reality when he saw Derek staring at him.

"I came by last night, seeing you shaking in your sleep. You were making strange noises and when I lay down next to you, you stopped, so I stayed there."

"Okay, makes some sense. You could've just woken me," Stiles replied, getting out of bed. He was wearing a tight T-shirt and sweatpants that hung loosely around his waist. Derek stared as Stiles picked up his phone, his face changing with expression to his texts. His eyes trailed down to the bi of Stiles hip that he could see between the shirt and the sweatpants. He wanted to tug them away and slip Stiles cock into his mouth, licking the head with his tongue while he pumped the base. He wanted to grab Stiles ass cheeks, fingering his hole and listening to the sounds Stiles would make as he did so. But, he felt that if he acted on his feelings, Stiles wouldn't react in the way he wanted. He didn't want to force Stiles into something, after experiencing something as terrible as he had. And he didn't even know if Stiles wanted or could return the feelings.

Stiles blushed when he saw Derek staring. "What ya staring at?!" Stiles said playfully lifting up his shirt, his back to Derek. He lulled it back down, sitting down on his bed.

Derek laughed and said, "Nothing. I should probably get going." He slipped into his jacket and shoes and stepped out of Stiles window, leaping down to the ground. Stiles sighed, falling back onto his bed, his arms spread out. Stiles spent the rest of his morning in his living room, snacking it and watching reruns of various TV shows. When noon rolled by, Scott texted Stiles asking if he could 'hang'. So, Stiles headed out in his jeep. He got to Scott's soon after, pulling into his driveway and knocking on the door within seconds. They watched movies on Scott's computer for a while, eating popcorn so buttered up it was probably unhealthy. Halfway though their third movie, Stiles said, "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure dude," Scott replied, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"You can't tell anyone!" Stiles said, making sure Scott's knew not to tell anyone.

"I know, I know," he replied, continuing to watch the movie.

"I think... I think I like Derek." This made Scott turn away from the computer screen, and stare at Stiles.

"You, uh, what?"

"You heard me. Are you mad? Are you uncomfortable? Because I would totally understand if you were." Stiles said this, but hoped Scott wasn't any of them.

"No, I'm not. I actually kind of suspected that you were, bisexual, at least. I just didn't expect it to be Derek." This relieved Stiles me made him wonder why.

"Why couldn't it be Derek. I mean, have you seen him!" This made Stiles smile. Scott made a disgusted face.

"Of course I've seen him. I just didn't think you liked him with all the threatening and stuff."

"Well, I do, so deal." Stiles crossed his arms, not saying any more.

"Okay." Scott turned to the screen and continued to watch the movie.

———————————

The weekend had passed rather quickly. Stiles saw Derek again Saturday night, climbing into his window.

———————————

The week was where shit started to hit the fan. Everything was normal till fifth period, just after lunch. Stiles, Scott and Allison made there way down the hall to the next class, shuffling between the maze of people. Stiles heard someone yell, "There he is!" It wasn't far away and the person had a gruff voice, as if they were sick. A wave of questions and hushed conversations fell over the crowd, everyone wondering who he was. Stiles turned to see everyone staring at him, Scott and Allison standing at his side. The first person to laugh was from the middle of the crowd. It spread outwards like wildfire. Stiles wondered why everyone was staring and laughing. Someone saw his puzzled face and said, "Dude, when making a porno, don't show your face." The guy held up his phone showing a video. He watched it, squinting his eyes because the video was dark. He realized that he was on the video, his back to the screen and his shirt up his back. He heard the raspy voice, moaning as he shot a load across Stiles back. Stiles eyes widened, his vision spinning. His stomach lurched violently, almost puking. The sick bastard took and posted a video of raping Stiles, and now his school thought it was some self-shot porno. He wanted to retreat into a corner and cry, never coming out. Instead, all he did was let out a tiny gasp from the back of his throat.

He turned and continued down the hall, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was laughing and pointing as the video spread to everyone. Scott threatened people who came within a foot of Stiles and Allison rubbed his back. But right then, he didn't want either of them, even though they were helping greatly. He wanted Derek at his side, threatening people and rubbing his back. Instead of heading to his next class, he started towards the school entrance. He didn't want to take any more of the people laughing and pointing, he was just going to leave, not kneeing where his mind would take him. Before he reached the door, some kid asked if it hurt. Stiles turned round and punched him in the nose. He fell to the floor, blood gushing from his nostrils. Scott stifled a laugh before Stiles left. He didn't care if he got into trouble or if his dad sent the whole police station after him.

He arrived at Derek's loft not long after. He rapped on the door, only taking four seconds for a response. Derek opened his door, sleep stuck to his face. He had a five o'clock shadow, even though it was only one. And he even made that look sexy. He wore pajama pants that were tied but hung below his hips. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which made Stiles feel better, for some odd reason. "Can I please come in," Stiles managed to say through his tears. His eyes were puffy and red, his cheeks stained with pink streaks. Stiles threw his arms around Derek, almost collapsing against him, but Derek caught his arms. He walked Stiles into his loft and up the spiral staircase, leading to his room. He lay Stiles down on his bed, pulling he sheets over Stiles waist.

"Tell me what happened." Derek said, rubbing little circle on Stiles back. Stiles wiped the tears from his eyes.

He told Derek what had happened, choking on a few parts of the story because it almost made him sick to his stomach. Derek held Stiles, their chests touching, Stiles sitting in Derek's lap. By the time he was done recalling the horrid story, they were a mess of limbs and sheets. Stiles lay his head on Derek's chest, listening as he breathed in and out, listening to his heart beating. He wanted to stay there, for eternity, unmoving, unchanging. But he knew if he did that, his dad would kill him. "I should get going," Stiles said, his voice raspy from overuse and crying.

"Okay," Derek whispered, resting is chin on Stiles head. Stiles made it as far as the door without clumsily falling. He fell trying to pull his shoes on. Derek caught him. Stiles smiled opening the door. Derek followed him out to his car, where it as raining lightly, but just hard enough to et you really wet really fast. Before Stiles headed to his jeep, Derek turned him around by wrapping his arm around Stiles waist. Stiles was about to protest but Derek planted his lips on Stiles. Stiles leaned into it, giving up his mouth completely. He felt Derek parting his lips, so he followed suit. He allowed Derek to slip his tongue inside his mouth and play with his.

Derek stepped back, a look on his face that was on the border of worry and complete bliss. Stiles didn't know what to say or do. This confirmed his major question: would Derek like him back? Stiles just turned, got into his jeep, and drove off, leaving Derek in the rain.


	5. Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter, with the repercussions of the last chapter in it. Let me know how it is. Thnx!

Stiles arrived at his own home about an hour later, taking the long way home. He stumbled in through the doorway, catching his fathers attention. "Hey," his dad said, a look of worry on his face. "I heard about what happened today, do you want to talk about it?" Stiles shook his head, shuffling up the stairs to his room. He shut his door, sliding down until he as sitting on the floor. Thoughts raced through his mind, stopping.  so often for him to actually understand them. _How did those students find the video? Why would they laugh, he clearly didn't want it? Why did Derek kiss him_? He liked the kiss, he longed for it. But to have it thrown on him all of a sudden took him by surprise. He didn't now how to react, or if he should've reacted and just gone with it. All this came back to one thought: Its all my fault. He had obviously done something to attract the attention of that man. If he hadn't put up a fight, the man would've killed him, and none of the laughing and embarrassment would've come to be. If he hadn't reacted drastically at school, he wouldn't have run to Derek and end up kissing him then leaving, leaving Derek baffled in the ran. None of it would've happened if it weren't for himself. People told him it wasn't his fault, but he knew deep down that it was, no matter how convincing they sounded.

Stiles lay his head down on his knees, letting out a painful sigh. After what seemed like hours after hours, he actually got up, stumbling at first because his legs were asleep and his ass was sore. He managed to make it to his desk, dropping himself onto the chair. He opened a document on his computer and started to type, fingers racing over very key, hitting them with elite swiftness. He managed a three hundred word letter within minutes. He put feeling into it, emotion. He spilled his guts onto the screen, all ending with an 'I'm Sorry'. He left it open, just staring at it. He only looked away when the image of the screen started to burn into his eyes. He rubbed them with the heel of his hands, leaning back against the chair. He scanned his desk, for anything to pick up and fiddle with. He saw pencils, pens, rubber bands, paperclips, papers, folders, drawings, books, and a porn movie. He opened a drawer and saw scissors laying on top of a stack of various desktop objects. He plucked them out of the drawer, sliding it back into place.

He spun the scissors on his index finger, watching as the blade reflected the light against the wall. He had to stop because his memory kept flashing back to the streetlight barely lighting what he thought was empty parking lot, completely missing the set of eyes that never looked away from him. He put the scissors down, his hand shaking, and his breath coming in short gasps. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and not have a complete panic attack from the memory of something he was trying desperately to forget. He wished the earth would swallow him whole, bringing him anywhere than this cruel, corrupted planet. He was amazed that the people that did hurt and rape others weren't the worst. The worst were the ones that laughed at you in the hallways, pointing and staring, glaring holes into you. Those were the most evil kind of person. They whispered lies behind your back, telling you what you wanted to hear. And school harbored this evil, this potent, dangerous, poisonous evil.

Stiles lifted the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow, revealing several scars running up his arm. These scars, pink raised skin, were the only ting he would allow himself to remind him of the night, and only because they wouldn't go away. About a week after he told his dad, he was told to see a psychiatrist for his 'own good'. He was being talked to like a baby, and they never listened, only droning on about how beautiful life is and how you shouldn't give it up, not matter what happens. Stiles had never been able to take them seriously because only those who have experienced what he has could understand. They would understand if you cut yourself, or choked yourself as punishment. Stiles knew it wasn't the right way to handle it, but it was the way that he found would relieve most of the pain he felt every waking moment. He just nodded and agreed his way thought treatment, the doctors never noticing because they never actually cared or paid attention. Stiles traced each scar, analyzing how the pink looked against his pale skin. He picked up the scissors, opening them and grabbing it, placing a blade against his skin. He pressed, then looked to see the little mark it had made. Stiles knew that scissors, especially dull ones, weren't the best to use for this, but it'd have to do, because his father didn't exactly trust him around knives, hiding them somewhere Stiles hadn't found... yet. He pressed harder, wincing at the pain he had gotten used to, but that was weeks ago. He watched as blood dribbled down his arm, onto his legs, probably staining his pants. He knew that theses pants would have to b thrown, otherwise his father would find out and that was something he learned the hard way.

He pulled the scissors across his skin, watching as a red slit was formed. He made sure not to make them to long or too deep. He only wanted to inflict pain, like that man had done to him. He did this four times. When He was done, he placed the bloodied scissors onto his desk, and leaning back into his chair. He sat there, his arms outstretched, the cuts facing up.

——————————

Stiles woke up, in his bed, under his sheets. He looked at his arm, seeing that it was bandaged, meaning what he had down had causally happened. He thought it had been a dream, and now he was sighing with annoyance at himself. He found his phone and saw it was around eleven at night, his father was most likely asleep or at work. His dad! Did his dad bandage him? Did he find out? Stiles was starting to panic again, making his stomach turn. He flung the sheets off himself, reaching his desk. The scissors were gone and the blood was cleaned up. He looked down to see he was wearing his pajama pants and a different shirt. His heart was beating rapidly and his breath quickened. Derek walked into his room, placing his arms on Stiles shoulders. "Calm down, okay, calm down. It's alright," he said, rubbing Stiles back. This did make him calm down, for a reason he didn't know, but probably understood.

"What... what're you doing here?" Stiles managed to ask after calming down.

"I came by to all about the kiss earlier and saw you sitting in the chair, bloody and all."

"So my dad isn't see me?"

"No." This relieved Stiles, making his heartbeat return to normal.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said.

"For what?"

"That you had to see that."

"It's fine. It's not like I haven't seen that kind of thing before. I kind of suspected, just didn't think you see still doing it." Stiles placed his had against Derek's chest, his arm the radiating off of him and his heartbeat lulling Stiles into a drowsiness. Derek guided him to his bed before Stiles completely fell asleep. Derek curled around Stiles, who was laying in the fetal position, his knees to his chest. After Stiles had fallen asleep, Derek listened to his heartbeat and labored breathing. He watched as Stiles would twitch in his sleep, stopping for a few minutes before starting up again.

Stiles woke up, Derek still laying beside him. He managed to get out of the bed without Derek waking up, and went to the bathroom. For the brief few minutes that Stiles didn't remember he day before, he as happy that Derek had come back to him. Then it all cam rushing back: the school, the video, the kiss, the cutting. He removed the bandage from his arm, placing it on the counter near the sink. The fresh cuts had stopped bleeding, but looked nasty without blood covering them up. Each was about three inches long, a few centimeters deep. The skin was jagged and nasty looking. stiles covered it with a new bandage before it made him sick to his stomach. He threw away the old bandage. He threw some water on is face, wiping away the perspiration that accumulated just from looking at the wounds. He was completely embarrassed that Derek had seen him like that, threat to himself. He fact that he'd go to such lengths to relieve the pain of the one stupid net that may have possibly ruined his life.

He entered his rom again, seeing Derek stretched across his bed. Stiles smiled, and sat back down at his desk. He pulled up the document, seeing it was still there, unchanged. He selected all the words, and pressed dele, watching it go from a ton of words to none at all. He spun around on his chair, watching Derek's chest move up and down. He watched when his stomach tensed that Stiles could see his abs. He sat down next to him, running his index finger over Derek's front. It gave Stiles goosebumps that someone as handsome as derek actually wanted to spend time with and cared about Stiles. He figured the only attention he wold get from anyone remotely good looking would be by rape. Stiles pushed the thought out of his head, trying to focus on the now. He pulled his hand back when he saw Derek yawn and stretch, waking up. He have Derek a toothy grin, which was fake because he didn't feel happy, even though he was happy that Derek was there. He wasn't happy with everything that had happened, with fucking life. But he acted happy, for Derek, even though Derek probably knew otherwise. "Is it alright if I takes shower?" Derek asked, rubbing Stiles chin with his thumb.

"Sure," Stiles replied, climbing back under the covers. He was cold and he knew that the heat from Derek would linger for quite a while after he left. Derek got out of bed, just in sweatpants that, yet again, hung below his waist. stiles wasn't complaining, he was just worried about his dad seeing Derek. And his dad would freak out and demand why he was there. And then Stiles would have to tell him and it would turn into something rally big when it doesn't have to. When Stiles snapped back to reality, Derek was already gone, the shower running and steam creeping into his bedroom, probably meaning Derek left the door open. Stiles lay back, his hands folded beneath his head, staring at his ceiling. He remained like this until he decided to get up and do something productive. He made it to the kitchen before realizing his dad was gone. He even walked outside to make sure his dad's car wasn't there, which it wasn't. While he was outside, he decided to get the mail, which wasn't something he'd normally do, but he felt like he should've.

Inside, he shuffled through the mail. Almost all of it went to his dad, with the exception of a few letters for Stiles that were about going to college and such. The last letter he found so,done had mailed themselves, their handwriting on he front addressed to Stiles himself. Tis made him wonder who would send him a letter, nobody sent him a letter, like ever. He stuck his finger under the lip of the envelope and slid it across, opening the envelope. He opened the paper which was folded in three. On the paper was chicken scratch writing, very bad and almost unreadable. But, Stiles being a master at chicken scratch, could read through it with no problem, which made him wish he couldn't have. It said 'Hey 'lil slut. How ya doin? 'Member, don't tell anyone, or I will have to kill ya'. Stiles shook, just from reading the first few words, let alone the whole fucking message. He dropped the paper, hearing it glide through the air and land softly on the floor. Stiles wanted to vomit is stomach out, he wanted to cream and cry, he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, he wanted to cut... he stopped his thoughts right there, fearing wear it may lead. Last night was a slip up that could never happen again. He, slowly, lowered himself into a chair at the kitchen table, fearing he might get too dizzy if he did something fast. His eyes were wide with fear. He looked at the envelope seeing no address, so the sick bastard must've dropped it off himself. Stiles couldn't believe this was happening. Rape was one thing, stalking was another. Usually, if the two sow up, then murder comes next, and that was something Stiles didn't want to find out.

Derek walked in, a towel around his waist and a stupid smile across his face. "Hey, what's wrong?" Stiles didn't have to answer because Derek picked up the piece of paper and read it for himself. He set it down on the table, resisting the urge to tear it to shreds, because the police might want it later. All he did was place his hands on Stiles shoulders, and kissed the back of his neck. He hugged Stiles from behind, reassuring him that it'd be alright, but if the guy knew where Stiles lived, it'd be a matter of time. Stiles was shivering enough to make him look like a human vibrator.

——————————

Derek, fully clothed, asked Stiles, "Do you want to stay at my place for a bit?"

"Would you!?"

Derek nodded.

"I would. If I stay here any longer I fear I might hurt myself or go crazy thinking that asshole will show up any minute." Stiles stared at the door, as if the man would burst in at any moment. Derek nodded to the stairs, and Stiles jumped up, running up the stairs. He picked a few clothes and accessories, stuffing them into a duffel bag. He left a note on the fridge for his dad, not necessarily saying he went over to Derek's. He followed Derek in his jeep, not wanting to leave it behind since he probably would need it.

Derek had emptied out a drawer for Stiles to put his stuff, and they decided that Stiles could sleep with Derek since they had slept together in Stiles own bed. They spent the rest of the day, curled up on the couch, watching TV show reruns and movies. Derek fell asleep first, and Stiles watched him sleep, how he shook a little bit because o his dreams. He revealed his weaker side when he slept, and Stiles liked that he wasn't the only weak one.


	6. School and home

Even though Stiles really didn't want to, he managed to convince himself, with a little bit of persuasion from Derek, to go to school the next day. He buttoned up a plaid flannel shirt, and slipped into a pair of jeans. He saw it was windy with a bit of a chill, so he decided to wear his red hoodie. He bounced down the spiral staircase, his mood much lighter than the day before. He slid into the kitchen, setting his bag on the kitchen counter. Derek was making coffee, dark bags under his eyes and face unshaven. He turned to Stiles, sipping his coffee, "Going to school so soon?"

"Yes. I decided that the earlier I nip the in the butt, the better. I can't stay home all day and sulk and feel bad for myself." Stiles replied, pulling a pop tart out of a cupboard. He bit into it, swallowing large bits at a time. "Especially when it's kind of all my adult," he muttered to himself.

"What?" Derek asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Nothing," Stiles gave him a toothy grin, grabbing his bag. "Got to go."

——————————

He sat in his jeep, which was parked in the lot in front of the school. His hand was on the key, which was still in the hole under the wheel. His heart was skipping beats and he really didn't know if he actually wanted to go in. He watched as others filed into the school, chatting away about what they did the night before, probably the guys they kissed or had sex with. Stiles pulled the keys out and stumbled out of the jeep, almost hitting his head on the top of the doorway. The closer Stiles got to the school, the more his legs threatened to turn to jelly and melt from underneath him. Before he knew it, though, he was at the door, pushing it open. He walked down the hall, making his way to his locker, avoiding everybody's eyes as he passed them. Some people gave him a what-a-weirdo look, and some completely ignored him. It was like nothing had happened, which momentarily relieved him, making him relax.

As he opened his locker, shoving a few unnecessary notebooks inside, he saw a groups of people shuffling his way. "And. Here. We. Go," he muttered to himself, slamming his locker shut. He started to his first period: chemistry.

He heard someone yell at him, "Stop right there faggot!" He didn't stop though, he just kept on walking, his head ducked and mouth shut. He knew if h gave them the reaction they wanted, they would push and push till a fight started. "Stop!" the same person yelled, his voice slightly louder than before. Stiles knees started to wobble, threatening to throw him to the floor. His stomach turned, making him want to throw up the pop tart he had eaten. He gripped the stamps of his bag, his knuckles turning white. He ground his teeth together, afraid he might say something that would anger the rather large group of students. He could see his class just a hundred feet away or so. The door was wide open and students hurried in since the warning bell rang, signaling one minute left till class started. He, suddenly, heard hurried footsteps, coming towards him. He tried not to antic as several hands grabbed his bag and shoulders pulling him into the core of the group.

"Leave me alone!" Stiles yelled, throwing his hands over his head as he was shoved to the ground. He felt several blows to his stomach and back. He felt like throwing up but even that was kicked out of him.

"I thought you liked it rough," the same guy spoke, which he could now recognize as Greenberg. The asshole that he couldn't see but heard so very clearly.

"I didn't... that wasn't... I was forced," was all Stiles could come up with that made them lighten there beatings.

"Because you liked to be forced!" Greenberg shot back, calling at his joke, which wasn't very funny. Someone hit Stiles nose, sending blood dripping onto the floor.

"Stop it now!" someone said, there voice deep with age and annoyance. It took Stiles a minute to recognize Mr. Harris' voice. He was standing outside the classroom, brows furrowed and lips pursed. "If you have anything else to say, tell it to the principal!" The groups dissipated, rushing to there different classes. The one time Mr. Harris is causally great teacher. Stiles was jumping for joy on the inside. He got up, brushing off his knees and limping into the class. When he passed Mr. Harris, Stiles could've sworn he saw look of concern on his teachers face. For some reason, sixth period was canceled and everyone was gathered into the auditorium for a school wide announcement. Stiles found a seat next to Stiles, Allison, Lydia, Jackson and Danny. Isaac and Erica sat in the row in front of them. The principal rolled a podium out to the middl of the stage, tapping the microphone two times, checking if I was working.

"Hello, Beacon Hill high students. We have pulled you out of class today to dress a certain issue that occurred within the past week. A certain video was released over Internet with one of our students in it. We have found out that this student did not consent to the inappropriate content or the release of the video and I know that all of you know what that means." The principal scanned the audience with a threatening eye. "This video has been taken down and if any of you are caught watching it or showing it to anyone, well, it won't be pretty." The principal wheeled the podium away and everyone was dismissed. Stiles was relieved that the principal had told everyone this, although it wouldn't do much, he was glad the school was in the know, sort of.

———————————

Stiles entered Derek's loft cautiously, as if someone was waiting behind the door. He shut the door, locking it for extra measure. When he turned back around, he saw rose petals on the floor, making a path up the spiral staircase. He smiled, setting his backpack down on the table and following the petals up the stairs. He picked up each petal as he found them, a decent sized pile forming in his hand. The pile brought him to Derek's bedroom, the door slightly ajar. He pushed the door open, his mouth gaping at what he saw: the rose petals made their way to the bed. He saw Derek on the bed, naked, with a mound of rose petals covering his crotch. "Am I dreaming?" Stiles said aloud without realizing it. Derek chuckled, unmoving. Stiles watched as Derek breathed in and out, his his arms and abs flexed with each little movement. He found his eyes drifting downwards, to his happy trail, wishing he could see what was underneath. Stiles bit his lower lip, and he realized Derek was getting nervous at how Stiles wasn't moving.

"Is it too soon? I'm sorry, I couldn't resist, please just forget this happened?" Derek apologized, sitting up, the rose petals still covering his crotch.

"No, no, no... I just... I just never thought this kind of thing would happen to me," Stiles replied, almost tearing up at no beautiful this moment was. H thought the way he'd actually have sex with someone would be by rape, which was something he would never want, even if the guy looked good. Stiles shuffled forward towards the bed. He sat in the edge, running his finger up Derek's arm. Derek pulled Stiles into a kiss, slowly, afraid Stiles might react. Stiles let out a soft moan from the back of his throat, which reassured Derek. Stiles parted his lips, letting Derek slip his tongue inside his mouth, toying with Stiles mouth. Stiles moaned again. Louder this time. He wanted to give himself over to Derek completely. He wanted Derek to do. Things to him. He wanted Derek to be rough and powering... Stiles mind drifted to the memories of that night. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling back a tear. He let out a soft cry, and Derek pulled back, placing his hands on Stiles shoulders.

"Stiles, hon, are you alright?" Derek asked, a look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Lets just take it slow, okay," Stiles replied, shaking his head. He placed his hand behind Derek's head, pulling him into another kiss. This time, Stiles slipped his own tongue into Derek's mouth, playing with Derek's tongue, teasing him. Stiles became aggressive. He pushed Derek back and pinned his hands against the pillow, Derek didn't complain, licking his lips with anticipation. Stiles kissed Derek's neck, placing a kiss on his chest, then his abs. He made his way down Derek's front, kissing his happy trail and slipping his tongue under the mound of petals. He pushed the petals to either side, finding Derek's cock, twitching furiously. He licked Derek's head, the sucked on a testicle. He kept Derek's hands pinned with one hand, and used the other to tug on Derek's hair, making him let out a low growl. Stiles sucked on Derek's penis, moving his head back and forth. Derek lifted his hips in motion with Stiles mouth.

Stiles let go of Derek's hand, moving it down Derek's side. He grabbed Derek's ass, slipping three fingers inside Derek's hole. Derek let out a louder, more obvious moan, lifting his hips even further, his muscles tensing with pleasure. Stiles could feel Derek clench as his orgasm neared. Stiles pulled away, making Derek let out a whine. He climbed up, shoving his mouth against Derek's, toying with Derek's tongue. He tugged at Derek's hair. Stiles undid his pants, pulling out his cock. "Suck," Stiles said, rather harshly.

Derek looked a little concerned, but slipped Stiles cock in his mouth without much coaxing. Derek pumped back and forth, rubbing the base of Stiles cock with his hand. With his free hand, Derek gripped Stiles back, pushing Stiles forward. Stiles moved his hips with the rhythm of Derek's sucking, getting faster and faster. He flat out fucked Derek's mouth. Within no time, Stiles came in Derek's mouth, tensing up. He would've stopped humping Derek's face if Derek hadn't stopped sucking. Even after he came, Derek continued to suck Stiles till nothing came out. "Yeah," Stiles said, "you little bitch." This didn't faze Derek, but it took Stiles a minute to register what he had said, and he couldn't believe he had uttered those words. Stiles lay down next to Derek, breathing heavily, a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead. He slipped out of his pants, throwing them on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said.

"What? That was amazing," Derek replied.

"That wasn't okay. I wasn't me. I acted, aggressive, and I called you a little bitch. That is more like... him." Stiles said, looking away, ashamed.

"Hey," Derek, lightly, grabbed Stiles chin and looked him in the eyes, "it was okay." Stiles shook his head, but knew that it sent okay. He was becoming something he hated, something that made him sick to his stomach. He was becoming the man that had done terrible things to him. If he didn't put a stop to his very apparent behavior. Derek held Stiles, falling asleep within minutes. Stiles thought about what had happened. Crying at what he did. He knew he shouldn't have over thought about it, but he did, because he was Stiles.


	7. Abducted

The next morning, Derek was still buzzing about the night before. Apparently Derek had liked to be dominated, and Stiles force was a big turn on. Stiles didn't feel so special, though, that morning. He felt ashamed, filthy, disgusting, appalled, anything but happy. He munched, silently, on his piece of orange jam covered piece of toast. Crumbs tumbled down his bar chest and landed in a growing pile on his lap. He took a swig of orange juice every so often, staring into space. His dad had called an hour earlier, asking when he was coming home, and if he was in any trouble. Stiles calmed his nerves by telling him that he was okay.

Derek sat opposite Stiles, slurping up a bowl of cereal. He flipped through the newspaper, and Stiles almost expected him to be wearing glasses, but alas, no glasses. Derek was naked except for a strip of cloth that passed as his underwear. The best part, though, was that they were pink. He claimed that it was laundry day, but he knew that Stiles would like them, so he wore them. From the many glances Stiles took of the underwear he noticed it hugged and lifted in all the right ways, also accentuating his quite large bulge. Stiles wondered if Derek was just coming down from morning wood. If he had morning wood, he might have had an erotic dream. Was that erotic dream about him? His mind wandered, and he let it for a few seconds, before coming back to reality, and continuing to munch down his boring breakfast. "So, uh," Derek said, the corner of his outs raising along with the opposite eyebrow, "shall we continue from last night, upstairs." He tipped his head towards the spiral staircase.

"I don't know..."

"I mean,"Derek interjected, "I could, be the one, you know, on top." Stiles gave him a look, making him react. "I wouldn't be forceful or anything, slow and steady, only if you wan to," Derek said quickly, sensing a growing tension that had formed in the air between them.

"You don't have to go slow for me," Stiles responded, giving a small smile.

"Is that a yes?" Stiles nodded, and Derek's face lit up. Derek shoved his cereal and magazine away, standing up. Stiles eyes drifted downwards, noticing very curvature and shadow in the underwear. Derek held out his hand, a beckoning look on is face. Stiles placed his hand in Derek's, standing up with him an following Derek up to the room. Stiles fell back onto the bed, letting out a deep breath. Derek kissed Stiles, deeply, plunging his tongue into Stiles mouth, playing around. Stiles moaned and Derek let out a low, guttural growl. Stiles issued back, a little more fierce than usual. Derek pressed his hips flush against Stiles, both or their hard ons rubbing against each other. Derek placed one last kiss on Stiles mouth, and made his way down Stiles front. He gave a small lick after every kiss, his lips touching the waistband of Stiles pajamas. He tugged at it with his teeth, making Stiles arch his back and lift his hips. Derek slipped Stiles pajama pants off and threw them off across the room.

He sucked on Stiles head, making him moan. He sucked Stiles off, almost until he came, but stopped, making Stiles whine. He jacked himself off until he became a decent hardness. He flipped Stiles onto his hands and knees. He licked Stiles hole, slicking it up and making Stiles moan. He placed. Hand on Stiles hand and used the other to guide his penis. He touched the top of his head up to Stiles ass. He pressed, slowly, moving forward. He pulled out slowly, and kept this pace the entire time. He came into Stiles, and he grabbed Stiles cock, tugging furiously. When he felt Stiles recoil as he came, he pumped faster. He kept jacking him off till he felt nothing come out. Derek grabbed an old shirt to clean themselves off. "I just want to stay here with you," Stiles said as he lulled the sheets over the both of them.

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The next day, Stiles managed to get to school, which was as boring as ever. It went by very, very slowly. Stiles walked to his car, swinging his keys around his index finger. He unlocked it, swinging the door open. He through his bag onto the passenger seat, dropping his keys on the ground. He picked them up, getting ready to get in. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, seeing... the man. He stood there, a cocked smile on his face. Pure evil. Pure evil was all he saw in that mans eyes. Stiles was about to scream when the man cupped a hand over his mouth. He took something out of his pocket, hitting Stiles over the head knocking him out.

Stiles woke up, the air misty and damp. The climate was thick, weighing heavily on Stiles shoulders. He opened his eyes slowly, scanning his surroundings. The hard cement floor he was sitting on was damp and cracked, making Stiles ass wet. The walls were made of red, brown and ran bricks, water leaking from a few holes. Some bricks were missing, laying on the floor beneath the empty gap. Vines grew against the wall from the curling, giving it a alley-like feel. The only light came from a light bulb hanging by a long cord from the ceiling, swinging slightly. Several shelves lined the walls and there was a table or two. Stiles was bound against column that had several grooves and cracks in it. Stiles felt his wrists, realizing a thick rope kept him tied up. As he was taking is all in, Stiles heart raced faster, and his breathing became shallow.

He heard a creaking, probably from a rusty hinge on a door somewhere, but the dim light allowed him only so much visibility, he heard the groan of steps as someone made there war down, probably to where he was. Another sound came from behind him: it sounded like a lock being undone and a less rusty door opening. Footsteps approached Stiles, and he couldn't see who it was. He finally saw him walk around the column, standing just under the light, in a spot that threw a harsh shadow over his face, making it almost non visible. Stiles squinted, trying to hold back tears and looking at the mans face. He was remembering very little thing he could, details would help. "Hey, 'lil slut!" the man said. Stiles grunted, shifting his position. He tugged his wrists, trying to break free, even though he knew it was useless.

"Shut up," Stiles managed to say. He felt like he had a sock stuffed down his throat. It was hard to even breath.

"No," he replied, almost playfully.

"Why?" Stiles asked.

"Why what?" the man responded, knowing full well what Stiles meant.

"Why did you kidnap me again?!" Stiles almost shouted, but he contained his anger and fear.

"I wanted to see you again, you were such a good fuck!" the man chuckled, throwing his head back. stiles noticed how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down whenever he talked. "Plus, I didn't want that other man dirtying you up."

"Him? Dirtying me up? You have things messed up in that little fucking head of yours. He was protecting me!"

"Well, that obviously didn't work, now did it," the man started, "see, when I saw that you moved out of your own home, I wasn't able to find you. This made me a little angry, but knowing your puzzling ways, I soon saw it as a challenge! I decided after much thought, to get you at the school when I couldn't find where you had moved to."

"Wow! Everything so much more sense now," Stiles replied, annoyed, rolling his eyes.

"Really!" The man seemed ecstatic, which made what Stiles said next all the better.

"No, dumbass! I was being sarcastic," Stiles yelled, a sudden wave of courage coursing through him. The mans smile faded into a frown, one filled with sadness and hate. Stiles knew what was coming next.

"You little bitch!" The man said, lifting his now balled up hand. He brought it down on Stiles, hard, hitting hi left cheek. He spat out blood, bringing his head back to its original position.

"Is that the best you got," Stiles said, spitting blood on the mans shoes. Whatever was making Stiles do this, he loved it. He loved making that man angry, making him feel small, while .stiles beat up him, emotionally.

"Oh, you want to play? You like it rough!" The man took anger swing, this time hitting Stiles nose. Stiles could feel and hear a crack, pain flooding his nose and the areas around it. He could feel blood coming from his nostrils, but he didn't care, he wanted it.

"Heh, my mother hits better than you, and she's dead!" Stiles spat, smiling with blood stained teeth. The man lifted his leg and swung it into Stiles ribs, probably breaking and brushing every rib. Stiles coughed, taking in a deep breath. He couldn't breath before, but now it was like he was inhaling smoke. The man brought his leg up again, but this time brought it down, hard, on Stiles crotch. Stiles leaned forward, gasping for air. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his whole body was shaking.

"You ain't so tough now, huh," the man said, spitting on Stiles. He walked out of the room, locking it behind himself. Stiles leaned to one side, trying to focus on his breathing, and trying not to focus on the pain he felt with every movement.


	8. Captivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, hope you guys like it!

Stiles breathed heavily, trying not to panic. He had to keep his cool. He could feel his face start to swell from the various blows it took, and he would be lying to say his crotch didn't hurt as well. His ribs felt like they were shattered into a million pieces, and every time he breathed in, his lungs felt like they were on fire. He shifted his position, the leg he was sitting on was starting to get numb. He tried once again to break his binding, but yet again he failed, only making the rashes on his wrists get deeper and more painful. He wanted to break out in tears and hope some knight in shining armor (Derek) would come rescue him, defeating that horrible, horrible man once and for all. This got him thinking... he hadn't actually seen the mans face, and he didn't even have a name for him, not even a fake name.

He pushed these thoughts from his cluttered mind. He took in a slow breath, the musty air thick a horrid smell and perspiration. His lungs burned as his lungs expanded. His head was starting to hurt where it was laying against the column. He didn't know how long he had been there... he figured it couldn't have been more than a week, but more than two days. He tried to measure it by the light, dimly, shining in from under the door. But, he gave up after the first night, his attention span too short to pay attention. A sudden wave of... Stiles didn't know how to explain it. He just knew he had to pee. The man only let him pee twice a day, and this would be his first time that day. "Hey, asshole! I have to piss!" Stiles yelled as loud as he could without his lungs feeling like they conjured up a forest fire.

"I'm coming slut!" the man yelled back, playfully. He hated the man for this. Everything Stiles did of said, the man cited as if it was the cutest thing ever. Like Stiles was just messing with him and he actually liked being pushed around and beaten. But, no! Stiles wished he could be back at Derek's loft, lying in bed, curled into Derek.

The man opened the door, letting it hit the wall. He was careless, and Stiles could tell. He could smell that the man hadn't showered for days, and he could see in the dim light that he hadn't shaven or gotten a haircut. The man was utterly disgusting, a complete loner. He probably hadn't had friends, or if he did, he pushed them away.

He dropped a bucket down on he floor and undid Stiles pants. Stiles had fidgeted and tried to get away the first time he tried to do this, but after the days, he had gotten used to it, not even caring to fight. The man even helped Stiles take out his penis and place it over the bucket, then proceeded to watch him. It as unnerving and didn't help his self esteem, but Stiles had realized that had to give up his self esteem in order to get through this, if he could. Stiles relieved himself, watching as the man licked his lips and had a hungry look in his eyes. When he finished, the man put him all away, buttoning up his pants and removing the bucket. Stiles let out a little whine once the man walked up the stairs, wishing that this would soon be over. Death seemed like a very convincing option at this point.

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Stiles gotten woken up by water being splashed on himself. He opened his eyes, wide awake now, to see the man hovering above him, a bucket in his hands. He smiled when Stiles looked at him, throwing he bucket to the side. He untied Stiles ropes, and picked him up. Stiles fear and excitement peaked, but soon simmered down when he realized he man was bringing to shower. Even the shower or room had a heavy lock on it, making escape impossible. The man shoved him into one of the four showers, yelling, "Undress!" Stiles did as he was told, first peeling away his shirt that was soiled and crinkly from days of sweating in it that had now dried. He let his pants drop to the floor and climbed out of his underwear. The man started the shower for him, which was com,teeny unnecessary. It was cold at first, making goosebumps form on his skin, but it got warmer, making Stiles feel comfortable and good. Right as Stiles had lathered himself up, the man said, "Play with yourself." Stiles gave him an are-you-crazy look. He nodded, making Stiles droop his head. H tugged at his penis, seeing how it wasn't getting any harder. He heard the whir of a camera starting up, and looked to see that the man was recording it.

He managed to get himself hard, but it took his a solid hour to actually come, and the whole time he had his eyes shut, thinking about Derek. The man giggled like a little girl when Stiles came against the wall of the shower, his muscles tensing and face contorting. The water rinsed Stiles and the wall off, making the cleanup easy. The man threw him a bundle of clothing. "I watched and saw what you usually wore, so I bought this." Stiles found a pair of jeans, and a flannel shirt with a hood.

"There's no underwear?!"

"Of course. It'll make it easier for me later," the man replied, beckoning him to get dressed. Stiles did so, gulping at the thought of what was going to happen later. He was led back to the dark room, and bound back against the column. The man left him, giving Stiles momentary relief.

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Stiles jerked awake, hearing the door being unlocked and opened, slamming against the wall. The man strolled in, casual as ever. The first thing Stiles noticed was that the man had cleaned up. He shaved, got a new pain of clothing, and took a shower. He could see in the light what the man was wearing, then he noticed something. The man was wearing the clothes he had worn that night. Stiles eyes flickered to his clothes, realizing that sick bastard bought him the clothes he wore that night as well. How could he have not realized this before? This made his teach turn and his head sin. He could pretty much guess what was going to happen next.

The man unbound Stiles, grabbing his forearm and lifting Stiles to his feet. His knees were wobbly and weak, which made it hard to stand, but Stiles did, trying to keep some courage. The man pulled Stiles into a rough kiss, pushing his tongue into Stiles mouth. Stiles tried to resist, but the man was strong, and it didn't help that he was malnourished. The man undid his pants, and pushed Stiles to his knees, wetting his lips by smacking his tongue against them. Stiles did as he was told, but silently boiled up a plan. Stiles sucked the man to almost coming, but stopped before he did. "What're you," the man was cut off by what Stiles did next. As hard as he could, he clamped his teeth down on the mans dick, feeling blood gush into his mouth. He immediately spit it out and watched as the man fell to the ground, grabbing his crotch. "You little bitch!" he yelled.

Stiles kicked him twice, then grabbed his keys. He managed to get the door open, but knew he didn't have enough time to lock it again, so he just closed it and bounded up the stairs. He came to a small building, which was a maze but Stiles found his way out in minutes. H could hear the mans screams behind him as he ran into the forest that was conveniently next to the small building. He ducked away from branches and jumped over roots that jutted from the ground. He could hear the man stumbling behind him, but didn't dare look back. He kept a pace, making sure the man didn't get a   
any more than a few hundred feet within proximity of Stiles. He soon realized he was weak, his malnourishment now getting to him. His legs were aching and weak, and he was short of breath, wheezing. He came to a road that was empty for the moment, which made Stiles hope plummet. He stopped momentarily hen started back up.

That moment though was all the man needed. He grabbed Stiles shoulder, pulling him back. Stiles thrashed, trying to shake loose of the mans grip, but he didn't give. Before the man clasped a hand over Stiles mouth, Stiles yelled at the top of his lungs, "DEREK!" The man dragged him back, the several punches and kicks that Stiles threw didn't seem to phase him.

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Stiles lay in the corner of the dark, damp room. The man decided that he cuffs went working, so he changed his ankle to a hook in the wall. After raping Stiles two times, the man left the room to go and 'let his babies recharge'. He left Stiles naked in the room, embarrassed, and ashamed. He curled himself into a ball, wanting the earth to swallow him whole.

Stiles woke up, a banging sound coming from somewhere above. He listened as footsteps seemed to be fighting, shuffling around rapidly. He listened as it moved down the stairs, voices no could be heard. Stiles backed up farther into the corner he was in, hoping the shadows would hide him. Thoughts flooded his mind: what's happening up there? Are they fighting? Is there more than one? Gang bang!

Stiles stopped moving, noticing the chain dragged against the cement floor making a horrible sound. His muscles froze and he tried not breathing as best he could. The lock drew back and the door flung open, but the man wasn't there, Derek was. Stiles could've swore he saw white light coming in from behind Derek and a non existent wind rippling his clothes, contorting his muscled build. Stiles rubbed his eyes, thinking he was just dreaming. H even pinched and slapped himself, but he didn't wake up. He just stared in awe. He noticed Derek's eyes were red, glowing in the darkness. Stiles watched as his eyes darted around the room, looking. There eyes finally met, and Stiles saw a momentary relief fill his eyes. He run to the corner Stiles lay in, Stiles drawing back for a reason even he didn't understand. Derek placed a hand on Stiles knee, giving him hope and relief himself. Derek noticed Stiles was unclothed, but didn't react, he just pulled Stiles into a hug. It took all Stiles strength to hug back, after that he slumped back against the wall. Derek took off his jacket, draping it over Stiles shoulders. Stiles pulled the jacket, wrapping it completely around him.

Then footsteps thumped down the stairs and the man appeared in the doorway. He was holding a gun Stiles couldn't recognize in the darkness. He heard the gun being cocked, and Derek started to turn his head. Stiles mustered up whatever strength he had and got to his knees, pushing Derek back, which wasn't an easy task. All of this happening within seconds and the man shot. The bullet sized through the air, hitting Stiles just below his left nipple. Blood squirted a few feet from Stiles as he was thrown back, hitting the wall, and sliding down. Pain was all he felt and knew at that moment. The man just stood in the doorway, staring and smiling. "If I can't have you, no one can!" he said, menacingly. Within seconds, Derek was across the room, ripping the gun from the mans hands. The jerked the mans head to the side, and clamped his teeth down on his neck. Derek pulled away, ripping a hunk of flesh off with him. Te man screamed n pan and agony. Derek dropped him to the floor, and raised his hand, now clawed, and brought it down across his chest. Four fresh, deep cuts appeared on the mans chest, each with their own waterfall of blood, staff his clothes and the cement beneath him. The man gasped one last time, his hand outstretched towards Stiles, then he was gone.

Stiles felt like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. But that didn't last long because the Dreamliner from his body was only able to sustain the pain for so long. "Derek," he gasped.

Derek turned his head in response and ran to Stiles, kneeling next to him. Stiles head rocked against Derek's arm as he stared into Derek's eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you too," Derek was now crying, which was something Stiles never would've thought he'd see from Derek. Tears hit Stiles face, but he didn't mind.

"Goodbye," Stiles said.

"No, no!" Derek shouted, shaking Stiles. And in that moment, Derek knew what he had to do. He opened his mouth, fangs now replacing his normal teeth. He clamped down on Stiles shoulder, then tore away. It was the only thin he could think of, something that might actually help. He watched as Stiles was breathing heavily, no sign of recovery in him. When he thought Stiles was gone, he lay him down on the floor, and broke the chains which had restricted him. He cried to himself, wishing none of this was true, that it as all just a horrible dream that he'd wake up from.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there, it had glen well into night fall, and Derek couldn't stand just sitting there. He picked Stiles body up, and carried him to his car. Even though Stiles was dead, he placed him in the front seat, feeling the trunk would be inappropriate. He took the highway, almost no cars drove by.

"Derek." he heard. He thought he was just imagining it. That it was just him grieving for Stiles.

"Derek!" he heard again, this time a little more urgent. Derek glanced over, seeing Stiles staring at him.

"Holy shit!" Derek said, losing control of the car. The drove into a ditch, but were alright, even though the car sustained quite a bit of damage.

"You're alive!"

"Yeah, you bit me you asshole," Stiles replied. Derek watched and saw Stiles eyes flash golden.

 


End file.
